


Throwing Stones in Glass Houses

by partyboycas



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Character Death, Death, Genderbending, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:04:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2711660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partyboycas/pseuds/partyboycas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where things are actually okay-ish and literally the only characters that are genderbent are Bro/Dirk (sis/dina) and Mom/Roxy (rox [im not the most creative with names okay])<br/>Also that's a lie everything is not okay-ish its still shit</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seriously, what the fuck?

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is still a work in progress because i cant write smut to save my life  
> hopefully i'll be able to work out the kinks (no pun intended) and post regularly  
> ALSO Rox is Rose's brother, explained later  
> im also not sure if i have everyone tagged, but for the most part everyone is in it or mentioned

You try your hardest to sneak in that night, though you know that Dave is most likely awake, waiting for you to get home. His light is on and you can hear bits and pieces of what sounds like a new rap. He’s been working on quite a few in the last couple days since Jade has been on vacation with her grandfather. Breathing a sigh of relief, you turn toward the kitchen counter to put down your purse and knock over a half-drank glass of apple juice on the floor, which shatters on impact. The music from Dave’s room stops and his door squeaks open.

“Sis?” he calls.

“Yeah it’s me,” you reply, cleaning up glass and apple juice.

“I’m sorry, I meant to put that away,” Dave apologizes and bends down to help clean up.

“No worries, little man, accidents happen.”

“Where have you been.”

“Meeting ran late.” Which is true, but not as late as you want him to know.

"You smell like a bar."

Fuck. Busted.

“Oh man, Dave…work is…stressful.”

“Call Rox to come up this weekend; he always helps cheer you up. And it's been too long since Rose psychoanalyzed our sorry asses."

“Yeah, I’ll see if he can come up this weekend—ow, fuck,” you hiss, accidently leaning on a piece of glass in an attempt to keep your balance.

“Did that go through your glove?” Dave asks, picking up the rest of the glass and throwing it away while you nurse your bleeding hand. You nod and pull out the piece of bloody glass. There’s a sarcastic remark on Dave’s lips that he’s holding back and you’re grateful for his self-control because you aren’t in the mood for it; instead he grabs a wet paper towel and tells you to apply pressure and absconds to his room. He doesn’t stay to help you bandage it or help you to your bed. He’s mad.

You sigh and hoist yourself back onto your feet and head for your room.

The alarm clock is obnoxiously loud this morning and your hand is still screaming in pain. A red spot has formed near your pillow and it dawns on you that your hand has started to bleed again. You make your way to the bathroom to find that Dave has commandeered it already.

“Hey, don’t bogart the bathroom,” you bang on the door.

“Gimme a sec,” he grumbles. He walks out wearing his shades.

“Hey, what’d I say about shades before 8 AM?” trying to pull them off his face, but he smacks your hand away. “You gotta problem, dude?”

“No,” Dave walks away and grabs his stuff for work. This weekend cannot come fast enough. Thank God for Fridays.

You wash up your hand and wrap it in gauze and shower.

Work moves as slow as ever. Three meetings and one too-short lunch break later you’re back at your office for some down time that should actually be spent doing something productive, but you’re the CEO so fuck it. You decide to take the opportunity to drop Rox a line.

“Hello,” Rox’s voice almost startles you.

“Hey, Rox.”

“Ohmigoshs Dina S’rider. Wha’s up?” he’s clearly plastered and it’s just barely two.

“Oh my god, Rox are you seriously shit-faced already?”

“Wha no, I’m fine. So wassup?”

“Do you think you’ll be sober enough to fly down for the weekend?”

“Of course I will! Oh shit,” you could hear something fall over in the background.

“Everything cool?”

“Yeah, Rose’s throwin’ thin’s again.”

“You should take care of that. But I’ll see you and Rose tomorrow?”

“Definily!”

You can’t help but try and hold back your laughter. You bid farewell and hang up.

“Miss Strider? He’s here again,” your assistant buzzes you.

“You’re kidding right? I’m gonna flip my royal shit into a pool of god fucking damn it.”

“He’s requesting an audience with you again.”

“Send him in.”

Your door opens and the cocky, smug son of a bitch waltzes into your office.

“Do we have to do this every day until I die, or do you plan on kicking it before me?” you fold your hands and glare at him from behind your glasses.

“Good afternoon to you, Ms. Strider. No, just until you fold and sell your company to me,” he smiled. You can’t even remember this ass-hat’s name, all you remember is that he wants to buy your company and that shit ain’t happening.

“For the last time, no. We’re not for sale. And we’re definitely not for sale to a tool like you. Now, get the fuck out of my office, I have an angry hormonal teenager to talk to.”

His expression doesn’t falter, but he gets up and leaves. You buzz security, “The guy who just left my office- never let him in again. I don’t care if he comes for the next fucking century, don’t let him in the building.” You rub your temples as you punch Dave’s number into the keypad. He doesn’t answer. Fine, fuck it. You dial a different number.

“Hey, Karkat, wanna grab a drink?”

“Yeah, where are we going?” his voice is groggy and you’re guessing he just woke up.

“Anywhere that serves liquor.”

It had been almost 6 years since the trolls had first come to Earth in search of a living planet to settle. Your company had helped to integrate them into society and keep the government from performing any weird experiments on them. Karkat was one of the leaders of the expedition and you had become pretty close with him and a few of his closest friends. Tonight you’re sitting in a dive bar with Karkat and Sollux, one of the navigators from Karkat’s team,  and you’re telling them about the ass-hat that wants to buy your company. And, of course, that isn’t going over well.

“Ah fucking hell no!” Karkat yells, slamming down his drink.

“Are you fuckin’ serious? He jus’ appeared out of nowhere?” Sollux slurs, but the alcohol actually makes his lisp less noticeable.

“I wish I were kidding. This guy just appeared about a month ago. Totally random. Always makes wisecracks about my shades. I’m a day away from shoving them up his tight, puckered ass and then throwing him out the window. It’d be so much more fun than that bullshit,” you finish off the rest of your glass.

“How’s Dave taking this?” Sollux orders himself another.

“He’s pissed because I haven’t told him. He thinks I just get shit-faced after work because it’s fun. Waking up with a hangover everyday isn’t fun.”

“You haven’t told him?” Karkat is naturally loud, but the alcohol is making him about 4 times louder, and the injustice done to poor young Dave is only making it worse. Trolls must have huge fucking lungs to sustain that kind of volume, jesus.

“How am I supposed to tell him that my successful company is being bought-out by some fucking scumbag? Man, this is not what I wanted for him. I wanted to be able to support him until I died and then he’d be swimming in cash and never have to worry about finances.”

“Out of curiosity, how much is he offering?”

“Six billion.”

Sollux chokes on his drink, “Whoa, okay, I may be new to your human currency, but six billion sounds like quite a bit.”

“It is, but do you know how expensive our way of life is? It’s custom-built from the amount I make off this company and if I lose it, then everything will have to go. As it is the company’s broke right now and I’m in the red.”

“Then take the deal,” Sollux means to touch your arm, but it comes out more like a shove. It was the thought that counts.

“Are you shitting me Sollux? No way, man, don’t take his shitty offer!” Karkat butts in. Loud as he is, you find it relatively easy to drown out his speech about sticking it to the assholes who try to undermine the underdog.

While he’s yelling about something, Sollux looks at you, “If you’re really that fucked as far as finances then take the deal.”

You begin thinking about the options that are currently in your presence. Six billion dollars would pay off the debt that you’re in and would definitely put money back into the company, but that company is your baby. You built it up from nothing.

And hell no are you going to let some condescending ass-hat take that from you.

“Karkat’s right. I’m not selling my baby,” you raise your glass and attempt to take a sip, only to find that it’s empty. You frown and signal to Vriska, the bartender.

“Hell no. Yesterday you were here for five minutes and had twice what you’ve had tonight and then vomited on my floor.” Vriska says to you while cleaning some shot glasses, and the glare she gives could make Satan piss his shorts.

“C’mon, just one more,” you insist.

“Gimme your keys,” she puts her hand out.

“I’m walking,” you hand her your glass and she frowns.

“So what exactly does your company do, again?” she asks, acting as though she’s never heard of you or your company, which is total shit because your company helped her get this shitty ass job and her shitty ass apartment and you don’t feel like going through what the fuck it is you actually do in your current state, but when she hands you another drink you decide to play along.

“It’s an entertainment company; you name it, we do it. What is this?” you ask.

“Booze, are you gonna bitch or drink?” Your hands curl protectively around your glass and she smirks at you. “So, what, you do movies, television, whatever?”

You down the liquid and place the glass back down on the bar, “Movies, TV, music production, we sponsor comic books and various street artists, and a fuckton more. We even helped with a few Nic Cage movies,” you let slip, which is total bull but it might get you another drink if Vriska buys it.

“Is that how your brother got his start in his awful comics and shitty music?”

“Hey, don’t diss Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff and his raps, man. The dude works hard.”

Vriska scoffs at your defense. “You want another one?”

“Please.” Success.

Vriska fills your glass and you turn back to Sollux and Karkat.

“Don’t submit, man, you gotta fight and…and…” Karkat finally loses his train of thought. Its admirable, really, how the man can go on and on like that three sheets to the fucking wind.

“You should get home. Do you want me to call you a cab?” Sollux slaps Karkat on the back.

“Wha? No, ’m fine,” he slurs and slumps against Sollux.

“Yeah, it’s time to go. Always good to see you, Dina. Let me know how it goes at work,” Sollux shakes your hand and helps Karkat out of the bar.

You finish your last drink and slap two 20 dollar bills down on the bar and begin your way home. It’s not as easy or graceful as you’d hoped it would be, and you’re thankful no one is out to witness this. The vodka and rum make your head swim and you feel the beginning of your hangover forming. Finally, you are able to stumble in and you change out of your white polo and black jeans and into yoga pants and a sports bra along with a zip-up hoodie, on behalf of the winter weather. Dave comes in to find you leaning against your desk, glasses sitting next to your hand.

“You’re home late again,” he folds his arms against his chest.

“Not as late ‘s yest’rday,” you offer a smile, but his lips are pressed into a tight line and your smile evaporates. “So sue me. Life style of the rich and famous is catching up to me. Not in a good way. What do you want?”

“What happened to us talking about shit?”

“Because I don’t even know what to tell you and I’m drunk and our house is full of swords and I need to go to bed before I think I’m a goddamn ninja.”

“Tell me anything, Sis! Shit, the last month you’ve been more distant than Pluto and now this last week you’ve been a one woman Saint Patty’s Day parade. I’m about to fucking olli out and crash at John’s.”

“We’ll talk about this in the morning when I can put thoughts into sentences.”

“Did you at least call Rox?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks,” Dave turns and stalks out of your room. You hear his door slam.

“Fuck,” you hiss and punch the wall, breaking something in your hand. You employ a few of your favorite obscenities from Karkat and abscond to your bed. 


	2. Keep Your Friends Close and Your Alcohol Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is comprised of 2 parts since they're kind of short but basically rox and dina have some heart to heart over drinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vomit warning

You feel someone grab your calf and shake you awake. Rolling over, you see who it is: Dave, with a very unhappy look on his face.

“What time is it?” you groan.

“Eight.”

“Are you serious…c’mon man…”

“I made coffee. Now make thoughts into sentences.”

You sit up. “Afterward, can you wrap my hand? I think I broke it last night.”

“The hole in the wall?” he raises an eyebrow.

“The hole in the wall,” you raise your hand, which is swollen and slightly blue.

Dave mumbles something under his breath that suspiciously sounds like,  “God you’re a mess.”

The kid has a point. You drag your pathetic self to the kitchen and Dave hands you a cup of coffee and an ice pack for your swollen hand.

“I was beginning to wonder where the gentleman I’d raised had gone. Good to see he’s back,” you murmur just loud enough to hear.

“So what’s been going on at work that you’ve decided being a drunk is the answer to?”

“Dave, we’re 300,000 dollars in debt. My company is broke. And I have an offer on the company for 6 billion.”

He chokes on his apple juice, spitting it across the table and you’re suddenly very glad you decided to stand for the moment. Dave grabs a paper towel to clean up.

“We’re how much in debt?” he coughs.

“You heard me. Now help me with this thing,” you hold up your busted hand. Dave looks like he wants to talk more about your work, but your hand has begun to fade to a lovely purple so he drops it.

“You’re a mess, you know that? Twice in a 24-hour period you’ve fucked up your hand. Though I guess if you’re going to, it’s preferred that it’s the same hand.”

“Tell me about it…”

“Well fuck, you dislocated your middle finger at the knuckle, congrats. Ready, one, two, three,” Dave snaps your finger back into place and you let out a yelp.

“Well if that’s not payback for all the times I’ve had to snap your bones back into place, I don’t know what is.”

“Ironic.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Having to explain the irony to you makes it less ironic. I learned irony from you and you’re missing the painful irony of this situation.”

“I’m hungover with a fucked up hand and 300,000 dollars in debt and about to lose my company.”

Dave hesitates, “It’s a change not to be the one who needed the doctorin’.”

This is a harsh blow. When you and Dave would spar, there were plenty of times that he got hurt. You had your fair share, but never as many as him. He was sloppy with his technique and unfocused. You never liked to hurt him, but you know how he hated it when you went easy on him. He never once blamed you for the fractures and dislocated joints but now it feels like he’s pointed a finger. Your implacable mask of detachment must have gone AWOL this morning because his expression softens.

“Not like that,” he hands you the ice pack.

A knock on the door saves you from a painfully awkward conversation with your young charge when he jumps up to answer it. Rox loudly enters, hugging Dave and handing him a bottles of Grey Goose and Bacardi, which Dave quickly hides away in a cabinet while Rose distracts you with a gentle hug. Rose hugs Dave next. You give Rox a one-armed hug and he looks at your hand.

"What the hell did you do?" he's clearly sober because that's the most coherent sentence that's ever come out of his mouth.

"Long story, I'll tell you later. Glad you guys could make it up," you say, smiling.

"See you guys," Dave says and drags Rose down the hall to his room and the door clicks shut.

"So how have you been? You sounded stressed on the phone."

"That's a story that I need liquor to tell. As it is I've had to explain it once this morning already. With a hangover."

"Oof. I didn't drink at all last night, so I'm feeling pretty friggin’ spectacular."

"Lucky. How goes the writing career?"

"Ugh, sigh. It's dead as hell. Like I'm pretty sure it’s deader than the possum we passed on our way down here."

"Gross, Rox."

Rox pauses just as he's about to say something and then he looks down, "I'm quitting."

"Quitting what?"

"Drinking. Tonight is my last night to have booze; Rose is pretty insistent."

"Oh man," you pause, "I'm proud of you, Rox. If you need help the next couple of weeks, let me know."

"I'm terrified, Dina. The last time I told Rose I'd quit, I almost lost her."

"Dude, you're not going to relapse again. If you need me to I can call up Nanna Egbert and we'll take care of you. Lord knows I need a vacation."

"I don't know. It's just...weird and scary and weirdly scary. I haven't been sober since..."

"I know and you don't need to think about that," you touch his hand and he looks up at you with eyes that take your heart and smash it into a trillion little pieces with shitty ironic swords. For the first time in a really long time, Rox is scared shitless and trying not to drown in fear and is looking to you to save him. You are both so royally fucked.

Not being one for awkward silences, and being worse at comforting, you get up and search through the cabinet that Dave stashed the booze. You grab two cups and set them down on the table.

“For now, let’s drink and be merry,” you open the vodka first and fill both glasses. You clink and empty them.

 

You and Rox stumble onto the roof during some point of the night, alcohol in hand. It took you a few hours to finish the vodka between making lunch for Rose and Dave and then ordering pizza for dinner/breakfast. Rox collapses on top of the AC unit, giggling about something, and you join him. He opens one of the Skyy Vodka bottles you had stashed from your birthday and you pop open the rum that he was so kind as to bring.

“You know what’s funny? Cats,” Rox laughs so hard, there’ll probably be a noise complaint in the manager’s box tomorrow from China.

“Man I shud cut you off f’r tha’ one,” you threaten, reaching for his bottle.

“Tha’s not fair!” he still giggles. You start giggling like a damn moron and soon you both are laughing at absolutely nothing.

The two of you calm down for a moment and you ask Rox for the time. Almost eleven.

“Shit, we def’ni’ly should stop with the alcohol. Rose will roas’ my ass for thanksgiving dinner if you’re drinking after midnight,” you manage to pry the bottle out of his hand and place them not-so-carefully on the ground next to the AC unit.

“I’m like the wors’ guardian ever. Poor Rose,” Rox frowns.

“No! Rox, c’mon, cut yourself some slack. You’re tryin’, right?” you roll onto your elbow to look at him.

“Bu’ she deserves so much better! I’m a train wreck. An’ you! You’re my bes’ frien’ an’ I’m awful to you.”

“No you’re not, man. If you’re tha’ awful, then why are you here righ’ now?”

“‘Cause I’m self’sh.”

“How? I invited you down this w’kend.”

Rox sighs heavily, “You’re so nice to me an’ I don’ even deserve it.”

“Rox, lis’en, you’re my bes’ friend an’ you’re going through hell righ’ now. Tha’ doesn’ mean you’re a bad person or something. I’s what frien’s do.”

There’s something gnawing at him like he’s a damn chew toy. You resolve to prise him from the jaws of whatever the fuck is making him hate himself.

“What is it?”

He looks at you in confusion.

“I’ve raised Dave almos’ all my life, I know when he’s keeping something from me, jus’ like I know that you’re no’ telling me something.”

“I’m jus’ a fuckin’ mess. I can’t even r’lay my ‘motions prop’ly like a real fun’tionin’ human bein’ ‘cause I’m not a fucking fun’tionin’ human b’ing.”

“Jesus shit, Rox. Jus’ tell me wha’s up,” at this point you’re both sitting up, Rox with his head in his hands and you’re staring at him, trying to resist the urge to shake him like a fucking carton of orange juice. He looks up at you for a pathetic heart-wrenching moment, eyes searching for a real answer to his existential crisis without completely breaking down like a lost game of Jenga. And in a split second Rox had his mouth to yours.

To be honest, you can’t even describe what the kiss was like because your head was a fish being flushed down the drain from the alcohol and as much as time seemed to slow down in that second, it also sped up like the Millennium Falcon kicking it into warp speed. As soon as it had happened, it was over.

“I’m sorry. See? I’m awful,” Rox buries his face in his hands again, feeling the shame that typically accompanies actions under the influence.

“I’m not sure if i’s the alcohol or what, bu’ can you fill me in on what jus’ happened?” unable to form any metaphors or similes in your inebriated and shocked state. He looks up at you like you’ve threatened his manhood, hurt and confused.

“I’m an idiot, tha’s wha’ happened,” he drops his hands to his sides and hangs his head, exasperated.

“No, Rox, I mean...” if there’s one thing you’re worse at than comforting people, it’s definitely relationships, “I’m not the kind who swoons and obsesses over people. I’m no good at emotions and...feelings,” shit you look like an idiot just stop talking. You’re actually dying of embarrassment right now. The fish in the toilet bowl feeling is back full force and you wish you would hurry the fuck up and get down the pipes.

“We’re nev’r gonna get this all out, are we?” he suddenly realizes he isn’t the only one who can’t talk to people.

“I’m thinkin’ tha’s a negative,” you look down at your lap and shiver. You’ve been expecting rain and you’re actually surprised that it hasn’t yet, but the midnight sky was about to become your greatest enemy in that respect. Little drops of water began to spit at you. “Oh fuck me,” you hiss and the two of you grab the bottles and lunge into the stairwell to escape the weather.

“Well tha’ll sober you up gud,” Rox grumbles drunkenly.

“Fuck that shit man,” you rub your arm with your free hand. You’re head is swimming less, thank fucking god, but now you’re colder than shit.

“Here,” Rox struggles with his jacket for a moment and puts it awkwardly over your shoulders.

“It’s only a couple flights, I’ll be fine,” you turn to him.

“Oh shut up, you’re freezing.” You want to object, but your exhaustion says otherwise.

You make your way down the stairwell and stumble into your apartment. There’s intense yelling coming from Dave’s room. They must be playing Xbox.

“Suck my dick, Dave!” Rose shouts coming out of Dave’s room. Rose is standing there a moment later, a satisfied victory smug firmly on her face, going for the fridge. “Oh...hi Dina. Rox,” the color drains from her face for a moment before you start busting up and she realizes you’re both wasted.

“Rose, you better kick his ass,” you say, collapsing on the couch. She grabs soda and the leftover pizza box from the fridge and absconds as fast as possible.

“Wow, I’ve never heard her ac’ually say tha’,” Rox was stunned.

“Dave has that effect on people.” Being in the warm apartment isn’t doing so great on your head and you suddenly have the urge to hurl your intestines.

“Oh shit,” Rox moans, grabbing his stomach. You decide to play the courteous host and let him have the first go with your toilet.

“Fuck, c’mon,” you ignore your undeniable nausea and help him to the bathroom, where he proceeds to puke uncontrollably. “Well there’s the pizza...” you hold your stomach and lunge for the sink and follow Rox’s lead.

“Oh dear god why,” you hear him groan into the bowl.

“You might wanna--” you puke and spit, “flush.”

After about an hour of paying homage to the makers of your porcelain plumbing, you both are back on the couch, Rox passed out in your lap and you’re absently petting his hair.

“Dina,” he mumbles unconsciously.

“Hm?” you incoherently answer, but that seems to be all he can manage. For the moment, you’re alright with that. You’re a little worried about what might’ve followed if he’d been more conscious. After what had happened on the roof earlier you were trying to focus more on the journey ahead for him than telling him how you feel. 


	3. How To Function Like a Real Adult, Featuring No One From This Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> feelings, emotions, a date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter will be smut  
> as soon as i finish getting mary to edit it

In the morning, Rox pukes a few more times while you make coffee. You sit at the little table and sprawl yourself across it when Dave and Rose come in, obviously tired.

“Long night?” he snickers and gets out the bottle of apple juice.

“I’m dying Dave. You must save me,” you grumble into the table.

“That’s what the coffee’s for.”

“No Dave, I’m dying and you must save me.”

“Sorry, man, I don’t have a degree in that,” Dave grabs some cereal and begins dragging Rose back to his room.

“Hold on a sec,” she tells him and turns back to you, “How’s he holding up?”

“Sick as a dog and only gonna get sicker as he goes through withdrawals. You ready for that?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

“Good, because it’s gonna be worse than he is right now and he’s pretty bad. Lots of self-loathing...” you fill your coffee cup.

“Did he tell you?”

You pause, “Tell me what?”

“Something tells me he told you,” she narrows her eyes.

“Assuming we’re talking about the same thing: yes, in a way,” it’s a lot more awkward talking to his sister about the events of last night than it would be if you told Dave.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what did you say?”

You sigh, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, god. Is that good or bad?”

“Both, I think. Neither of us were coherent enough to actually say anything. It was like two kids that’d never met before being set up for a prom date and then an airplane crashed into the school.”

“Wow...bad...”

You nod and sip at your coffee. It’s strong enough to kill a small animal and makes you cringe slightly. You resolve to drag your ass to the store to get more sugar.

“Hey...” Rox groggily enters the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. Rose, slightly embarrassed, smiles and heads for Dave’s room.

“Here, you might wanna plug your nose as you drink this,” you hand him a cup filled with the scalding liquid.

Rox gives the cup a dirty and uncertain look before taking a small sip, “Jesus this is strong.”

You snicker and grin at his comment on your coffee-making abilities.

“So, uh, I’m not sure if I was dreaming or if it was the alcohol, but did I really kiss you last night?” he hangs his head in embarrassment.

“I think it was the alcohol, but yeah.”

Rox rests his head against the table, cursing and mumbling, “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t be. We also came to the conclusion that neither of us was going to be able to communicate our feelings like real fucking humans, so really it was the only way it was ever gonna get brought up.”

He looks at you through tousled hair, the self-loathing over-flowing like its his goddamn job to produce that shit. You can’t stand that look. You want to wrap him in a blanket and give him hot chocolate like you used to when Dave got sick. It’s almost as pathetic as when Dave got sick, too.

“You missed the highlighted text in that sentence, didn’t you?” you fold your arms against your chest, probably in an attempt to keep your heart from pumping out of your damn chest.

He considers it for a second and his eye widen.

“There it is,” you hold your expression to the best of your ability, even if your face has gone bright red. He hides his face as this sinks in. Oh for the love of god please say something this is so fucking awkward I’m going to force that coffee down your throat. You clear your throat hoping to bring him back into your kitchen and out from the Land of Booze and Self-Hatred and slide the coffee closer to his hands. “Can we pretend to be adults for five minutes and talk about this since you’re about to quit drinking cold turkey and have a lot more to worry about than just...well, this.”

“Yeah. I guess we should,” he sighs and lifts his head off the table. As a sort of let’s-talk-serious-business, you remove your shades and place them on the kitchen table. You let go of a long-held breath, but Rox decides he’ll start.

“You’re really pretty.”

That was one thing you weren’t expecting and you drop your head to avoid eye-contact like its the easiest way to contract the plague. Your ears feel like they’re on fire. Fuck adulthood.

“You ain’t hard on the eyes, either,” in an attempt to play it all off in the typical Strider manor. Now you’re really going to die of embarrassment. Jesus christ how do people do this. Is it too late to put the shades back on, shit. You think so.

“Okay, before this becomes worse than it is already, how about we start with a date?” Rox shows the deep seated wisdom that fucking runs through the Lalonde veins in his attempt to salvage the current situation. The man needs a fucking award.

“When?” a bit skeptical.

“Rose got the week off so she could chauffeur me around while I’m going through withdrawals, not that I’ll actually want to go anywhere. We could stay a while, if you don’t mind us crashing on your floor. So we could go tonight or tomorrow night. I figure I’ll be okay for that long, right?”

“We should go tonight. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re about to become all different kinds of fucked up. I don’t think you’ll be okay tomorrow,” you touch his hand, trying to offer sympathy. Judging by the look Rox gives you, you think you actually did some good for once. “You should drink your coffee before it gets cold. I’m gonna grab a shower.”

You dump your cup and place it in the sink. Before heading to the bathroom, you grab clean clothes since it’s probably considered inappropriate to walk around half-naked with house guests. You stand under the hot water and think about finances and how screwed you are and then flip to how nervous you are about your date. Adulthood sucks. You shut off the hot water and dress, hoping to be able to catch Dave for a moment away from Rose. When you open the door, you find your opportunity was two seconds from knocking.

“Oh good, you’re done. Rose calls dibs.”

“Can we talk for a second? In my room, preferably.”

“Oh god do I want to? I don’t think I do.”

“Goddamn it, Dave. Room. Now.”

He groans and follows you to your room.

“Okay, what?”

“I have a date tonight. And, uh...I haven’t been on a date since Tupac died.”

“Dude, you were like, 6 when Tupac died.”

“Shut the fuck up, you know what I mean.”

“What about all those guys over the years?”

“One-nightstands, bro. Its a whole different universe.”

“How? Are you saying those guys didn’t buy you dinner--you know what? I don’t wanna know the answer to that.”

“It’s different because I know this guy personally,” though that’s not really helping your case much.

“Has Rox finally admitted his latent feelings for you?”

“It’s not latent if everyone knows.”

“Ironic, isn’t it.”

“Are you going to continue fucking with me or tell me the etiquette of dating?”

“It’s easy: you go out, talk about shit you like, get dinner, see a movie, if it goes well you kiss, and go the fuck home.”

“You’re a master, li’l man. A fucking pro. I would have never known that basic socialization was involved in a date if you had not just fucking told me. It’s crystal clear now, bro.”

“You asked, man.”

“Fuck. Fine, okay. What do I wear?”

“Where are you going?”

“I don’t know...”

“What you’re wearing is fine,” Dave gives up and leaves your room. You groan and fall onto your bed.

You give up on worrying for now, since tonight you’ll probably work yourself up and bounce back and forth between going and not. You rub your temples and go back out to the kitchen and find your glasses on the table, but Rox is nowhere to be seen.

“Uh, Rox?” you call.

“He went up to the roof for a bit,” Rose pops her head out of the bathroom, “Don’t worry, no alcohol. I dumped it all last night.”

“Awesome. Thanks,” you really aren’t all too thrilled that your booze are gone, but this recent coping mechanism is doing more harm than good. And you need to support your friend, and if that means a dry apartment, then so be it.

Rox is sitting on top of the AC unit staring at the grey, overcast city. A light drizzle dampens his hair. It’s strangely alluring. His eyes have a certain sadness that makes you want to nuzzle him and hand him a cup of hot chocolate with extra whip cream. (Extra whip cream was Dave’s treat when he felt better after being sick, but still couldn’t go to school.)

“Hey,” you sit down next to him, your ass suddenly wet from the rained-on unit.

“An appropriate day to start withdrawals,” he gestures to the sky subtly.

“Have they started yet?” looking at him.

“I feel the need to have a drink, but that’ll subside when I eat something. I’ll probably start tonight...” the disappointment is crushing him by the second.

“It’ll still be a good night. I’ll make sure of it.”

 

Rox was miserable for most of the day, but by 4 o’clock you could tell he was as excited as a pre-teen girl in line for the new Twilight movie. At 5 you decide to actually get ready for the date and apply makeup, which you aren’t proficient at in the very least, so it’s minimal and you remove the hair tie to let your hair down. It falls to your waist. Damn you need to get it cut. You wonder if you can get a twofer deal if you and Dave both go in for a trim. Even though the rain hasn’t let up, you change into one of your barely-worn pencil skirts and a blouse and a pair of heels. It suddenly occurs to you that you might be over-dressed and proceed to freak out for ten minutes before Dave comes in to ask you a question.

“Hey, Sis--whoa...”

“Am I over-dressed?”

He blinks at you a couple times before replying, “No, you just--don’t take this the wrong way--you look...feminine.”

“I’m going to ignore the underlying insult and just say thanks. By the way, do you know where my wool coat is?”

“Closet by the door.”

“Cool,” you rush out to the living room to get your coat and run, almost directly, into Rox. “Whoa, hi, I’m almost ready. I just need my coat.”

“Wow,” he looks at you. “Yeah, uh. I...wow.”

You blush over the fact he clearly is speechless over you and that’s never actually been a thing that’s happened.

You retrieve your coat and are about to leave and you turn towards Dave and Rose, “Be good, clean up your mess, and I can’t tell you not to drink my booze because I don’t have any, have fun.”

“Will you just leave already?” Dave groans and you throw him a glare.


	4. My Anacoda Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rox and Dina have their first date  
> And there's a good night kiss  
> And a whole lot more....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to mommaslovehand.tumblr.com because she is literally perfect and pretty much wrote the smut for me because i'm awful at writing sexy things  
> THANK YOU MARY <3 !!!  
> I'm going to try to update 2 pages on Saturdays (late) and Tuesdays (late) so pretty much they'll be up Sunday mornings and Wednesday mornings.

Rox insists on driving, so you get in the silver 2011 Camaro, which you've never actually ridden in before. You’re sure that he’s probably been too drunk to drive half the time and this is his little accomplishment for the night and don’t mind letting him drive.

“So where to?” you ask.

“Surprise. I just hope you like it.”

“Are you taking me to France to dine on the top of the Eiffel Tower, rose petals leading the way?”

“Nothing quite so cliche,” he smiles, driving a few blocks away from the apartment to the part of the city that never quite turns all its lights out. Rox pulls up in front a small Italian restaurant and valets the car.

“I suddenly don’t feel overdressed,” you grin. He takes your hand and leads you into the restaurant and to the table.

The night passes with talk of work and friends and common interests like movies and music. Dating isn’t really as hard as you initially thought. Especially when it’s your best friend.

“I was pretty terrified about tonight, actually,” you admit, sipping a glass of water.

“No, not the infamous Miss Dina Strider!” Rox laughs, “I was, too. Rose almost killed me.”

“Dave was close to committing murder this morning.”

It isn’t until almost 10 that you decide to head back to the apartment. The drive home is mostly silent because Rox starts not feeling so well and you’re close to falling asleep.

You manage to make it up to the apartment without being completely soaked from the sudden downpour. Dave’s light is off and the slight sound of snoring can be heard. Perfect.

“The kids are out,” placing your purse on the table and throwing the coat back in the closet, “Do you want some aspirin for your head?”

“That’d be fantastic,” Rox replies.

“I had a great night, by the way,” you grab the bottle from the cupboard and hand it to him with a glass of water. He takes and places them both on the table, his eyes never leaving your face. He kisses you. It’s awkward like when you were on the roof, but it gradually becomes more vehement. He pushes you against the counter, your hands entwined in his hair. Rox avidly tugs at the hem of your skirt, and his hands move to the back of your thighs as he hoists you onto the counter. Your hand reaches back to ensure you don’t end up with a concussion from hitting your head on the cabinet and you start to feel something cold and wet seeping onto your butt. Shit. And you were starting to like this skirt.  

“Oh, fuck,” you hiss.

“What? Are we going too fast? Oh god, I’m sorry,” Rox pulls away quickly.

“Shut up, no. Dave spilled apple juice and now my ass is sticky. And not in the good way...” you inch over, moving to a cleaner area of the counter. And then you think fuck it, and hop off the counter to remove your now apple-juice stained skirt. Not like you wanted it on right now anyway. Rox looks like he can’t believe you just did that. You pull Rox’s scarf so his mouth slams back onto yours and you resume the hot-and-heavy action in your kitchen.You start to pull his hips closer to yours, and he takes the opportunity to put you back up on the counter, careful this time to avoid the wet spot (no pun intended). He works one hand up your blouse, and you shiver as you feel his hand go up your spine. He stop at your bra and fumbles a bit with the clasp, but to your great amazement he manages to get it undone. With your bra now undone under your shirt, it seems a little silly to keep it on. Detaching your hands from his hair, you lean back a little to start working the buttons of your blouse open while Rox leaves open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting and sucking hickeys into your pale skin. You hope he has enough forethought to leave them low enough so you can hide them with a shirt, but you doubt it. He sucks a spot under your jaw, back by your ear, and it makes you wrap your legs a little tighter around his thighs.

With all the buttons on your blouse finally free, Rox pushes the thin material off your shoulders, along with the bra. You shiver a little bit at being exposed, and you tug Rox’s blazer off of him, followed quickly by his shirt. You take a moment to admire his skin in the dim light of your kitchen, and you start to return the favor and leave bite marks over his shoulder while he starts to tease your nipples, making you mewl a little. You hear him huff a laugh at this, and you give him an extra hard bite, earning you a hiss and a tighter grip on your hip. Rox’s adventurous hands have made their way to your panties and start slipping them off slowly.

“Wait wait wait. Top drawer of my nightstand. Go go go,” you urgently push him toward your door. Its when he’s gone you realize just what the fuck is about to happen. You would laugh if you didn't feel so nervous. Not that you haven’t gotten rave reviews before, but this is Rox goddammit. He returns with the desired contents: lube and condoms, and sans his jeans. For the moment, they’re pushed aside until needed, and you take minute to admire the bulge in Rox’s briefs until you notice that he’s gone red, and not just from arousal. It’s nice to know that you’re not the only one who’s nervous here. You figure the best way to kill the butterflies in your stomach is to pretend like they aren’t there, and you resume with leaving hickeys on Rox’s chest while he works one hand into your panties. You open your legs wider for him when his thumb gently brushes over your clit, and goddamn you forgot how good it feels to have someone else do that for you.

Rox slips your panties down your thighs and legs, kneeling so that he can slip them off your feet. He leaves open mouthed kisses and hickeys on his way back up your body, and you swear you haven’t been this close to your middle splits since the 10th grade.  You pull Rox’s mouth up to yours, kissing him hard as he slips one finger into you slowly and holy shit his one finger has got to be the best thing you’ve felt in you in a long time. He starts to pump in and out of you slowly, adding a second finger, and you can’t really do anything but pant into his neck and leave long lines down his back. Some higher part of your brain hopes that you’re not hurting him too badly, but most of you doesn't really care as long as his fingers keep up. You make a brief mental note to encourage him to pick up the piano, because there’s got to be some hidden talent for that judging by how you've started to moan under him.

Finally, you reach your limit for this kind of teasing, and you disentangle your hands from his hair and shove his boxers down off his hips, giving you access to his dick. Rox is completely hard, and that sends another wave of butterflies through your stomach. You grab his dick and start to stroke, pulling him towards you with your legs. Rox gets the message, and takes a minute to slick one of the condoms on his cock and squeeze a bit of extra lube into his palm. He slicks himself up, and you grab him again and the both of you guide him into you slowly.

If you thought his fingers were good, its absolutely nothing compared to his dick. Rox sets a slow pace at first, letting you adjust to his dick inside you. You flex your pelvic muscles around him, and Rox gasps and thrusts a little harder into you and picks up his pace. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and your fingers get tangle in his hair. You’re panting onto his neck, and you reach down to finger your clit, heightening the sensations. Rox notices and takes over for you, and now you’re seriously worried that Rose and Dave might hear you. Hell, you’re pretty sure China knows what going on right now, but you can’t keep yourself from moaning under his fingers. You start to mouth at his shoulder, trying to keep yourself quiet.

"Faster," you gasp and he willingly complies.

You bite back moans and Rox muffles his grunts into your shoulder. He gets his hands under your ass, lifting you a little more off the counter and harder onto his dick. Your legs wrap around his waist a little tighter, and you try to match his thrusts. You kiss your way back up his throat, searching for his mouth, and he bends down to seal your lips together.

"Dina, I'm close," he bites your shoulder, and you can feel him gripping your ass tighter. You’re definitely going to have finger marks on your butt tomorrow.

"Just...a little..." You’re so close to the best orgasm of your life, you can feel the familiar bottom-dropping-out-of-your-stomach sensation that you can usually only get with your vibrator, and you swear you can feel every single nerve in your lower body lighting up with the need for release. Rox gives you one more hard thrust, and you can feel your eyes roll back in your head a bit as you hit your climax. Your legs pull him in deeper, and every muscle in your lower body starts to contract around him as the pleasure from your orgasm runs laps up your spine and back down again. You can feel Rox thrusting a little bit more, and then with a gasp he stops, and you can feel him spasming in you. You tilt your face up a little bit and give him a wet kiss, squeezing him a little more with your pelvic muscles while he tries to catch his breath.

You lean against one another, sticky and sweaty and exhausted. It takes him a minute to pull out, and you hop off the counter to show him where the trash can is so he can toss the condom out. You grab his boxers off the floor and toss them to him, then grab your blouse and shrug it back on because dammit there are still children in this house, and while having hot steamy kitchen sex with your best friend might not be the most appropriate thing, you will be damned if Rose and Dave have to accidentally see you completely naked.  You and Rox stumble to the couch where you fall asleep cuddling in an old blanket you keep on the back of the couch for just such a need.


	5. Don't Run With Scissors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> everything is literally back to being shit  
> and its only going to get worse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> literally shit  
> vomit warning  
> death  
> you know, the usual  
> also there are two parts in this chapter because it was really small

You wake up on the couch, alone. Rox can be heard from the bathroom, violently vomiting. You quickly rush to make sure he’s alright. The tiny, feeble person that’s on your bathroom floor, cuddling your toilet, is hardly the man that had taken you on your kitchen counter just hours ago. He trembles to the point that he looks like he’s seizing, his eyes are sunken, sweat pours down his face.

“Holy shit,” you get on your knees to hold him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs between vomiting. He looks awful and you feel awful not being able to do anything about it.

“It’s not your fault… We should get you to the couch though. I’ll get you a trash bin under the kitchen sink,” you try to help him up and he resists.

“No it’s my fault… I just wanted to have a good night and I was getting a headache so I…” he pulls out a flask which is clearly empty.

You sigh. Rox is a fucking mess. “You know that’s not going to help your condition.”

“I know but I felt like shit yesterday and I know why and I just wanted to have a nice date with you,” the weight of his actions fell on his shoulders like a backpack on the first day of school. He starts crying.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the couch.”

You help him strip down to his boxers, due to his clothes being soaked in sweat and vomit, and wrap him in the comforter off your bed. He vomits the soup you make for him and you try to keep him as hydrated as possible.

“Dina,” he murmurs between sips of gatorade, “It’s my fault.”

“Rox, it’s okay. It’s not your fault,” you pet his hair like you used to when Dave was sick.

“It’s my fault they’re dead.”

You feel like you’ve been hit by a baseball bat. Your gut is sailing over the Fenway Green and your heart thuds to the ground. “Oh man, Rox, no. No it’s not your fault. Your parents,” you struggle to explain, “They were hit. It was an accident. There was nothing you could’ve done. Don’t pull a Bruce Wayne on me, man. You didn’t pull the trigger and you didn’t drive the car that hit them.”

“I should’ve made them stay home. I was thirteen. I had to take care of Rose and I could’ve just told them I wasn’t up for it. I called them home from that party,” he pauses, “They were hit by a drunk driver, you know. Ironic, isn’t it.” Rox vomits again. You use a paper towel to wipe the medley of vomit, snot, and tears from his face.

“Rox,” though what could you really say to a guy that had a Bruce Wayne complex going on? He feels so guilty about his parents’ death that he drank himself into a half-coma everyday of his life since the age of fourteen. Now he was trying to undo what had been going on for 12 years. “Does Rose know?”

“She knows bits and pieces of their death. She was kind of too young to get it.”

You pat his back as he pukes some more. “She was six. You never talked to her about it?”

“I was too shit-faced half the time,” he rolls onto his back, and you advise against it, “I’ll be fine. Go see if Dave and Rose need anything.” Leaving him alone on the couch was also against your judgement, but he insists.

“You guys need anything? I can throw the pizza in the microwave if you want,” you knock. Dave opens the door.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

You pause, hesitant to answer because you’re not even sure if you’re okay, “Yeah, fine.”

“No you’re not, get in here,” Dave drags you into his room and closes the door.

“For fuck’s sake, Dave.”

“No, talk to Rose about this. She’s more qualified than half the schmucks out there that claim to have a PhD.”

“I don’t need to have a therapy session, no offence Rose.”

“None taken. But I would like to know the state of my brother,” there’s tension in her hands and her lips. She drives a hard bargain.

“Alright, uh, last night--well, yesterday--he started getting a headache, nausea, and, um, he had flask, don’t know if you know about his secret stash flask. I have it now. But he had a bit yesterday so that we could have a nice date, so uh, I guess this is my fault,” you pause, debating whether or not you should say anything. But they were Rose’s parents too, and her understanding could help his recovery. “Do you know why he started drinking?”

“Stress of having to grow up so young, I assume.”

“Wrong. He started drinking because he blames himself for your parents’ death. He thinks it’s his fault.”

“Why would he blame himself? I mean…” you can see her mind working as she thinks back to that night. “I remember him calling them and then about an hour later the cops were at the house and Rox just broke down. He told me what happened...but why does he think it’s his fault?”

“They were driving home when they were hit by a drunk driver.” The color on Rose’s face completely drains. Fuck. That could have been said better. Dave lays a hand on her shoulder, but Rose isn’t registering anything in this universe. The three of you sit in silence for a good while before you hear the sound of the bin knock over and a thud that snaps you back to reality.

“Fuck,” you run out to the living room and find Rox laying over the knocked over bin.

“I tried to get up and go to the bathroom,” he mumbles.

“Dude…” you whisper to yourself, helping him up and guiding him to the bathroom. You clean up the vomit that’s now all over your floor and rinse out the bin. Dave takes your soiled comforter down to the laundry room and you pull out an old quilt that Nanna Egbert bought for you after you moved out. Rose helps get a bath running and the two of you get the vomit out of his hair. Rox doesn’t talk, but he dresses himself and goes back to the couch. You tell Rose and Dave to go back to his room and you’ll order chinese.

“This is a nice quilt,” Rox says to you after you get off the phone.

“Jane gave it to me after Dave and I left.”

“She was always so nice.”

“Yeah. How long were you guys at Egbert’s after we left?” you sit on the coffee table.

“Only about a year or so. Then I got my publisher and we moved to New York.”

“Yeah,” you go quiet for a moment, “We lived on the streets out here for a bit.”

“What happened to the money she’d given you?” Rox put an arm over his eyes, clearly getting a headache.

“I put it down on the apartment and invested the rest in getting my company started. The apartment wasn’t ready for a month. They were still renovating and it was the cheapest.”

“So what did you do?”

“A lot of things. I picked up some obscure jobs to make ends meet and make sure that Dave could have school clothes. It was a rough month: hotter than hell. Once the apartment was done we still had no furniture and my company was practically nonexistent. I still worked my sketchy jobs and then one day the company just took off.”

“Sketchy jobs?”

“Real sketchy.” You didn’t want to actually talk about those jobs. You have put those jobs behind you through sheer repressment and you don’t wanna think of how you’ll be if they start to surface again. There needs to be at least one adult here, and you’re pretty sure Rose is out of commission after that bomb you so graciously dropped on her. “You need to sleep. Holler if you need something.” Your slight Texan accent slipped a bit. Rox seemed to smile at that and you kinda wanted to punch him for smiling at your slip-up, but the delivery guy knocked on the door.

“Dave! Rose! Food!” you yell down the hall and start opening boxes to discover the contents.

“Where’s--”

“Chow mein,” you hand him the box and two sets of chopstick and forks. They escape back to Dave’s cave to devour their prey.

It was going to be a long ass fucking day.

 

Rox was hardly sleeping, and its not like you could either, when the phone rings.

“Strider residence,” you answer.

“Dina! Oh my goodness, thank god! Is Dave there?” Jade stumbles over her words a bit.

“Whoa, yeah, Jade are you okay? You sound like a kid at a funhouse that’s terrified of clowns.”

“Yeah, um, something’s happened to Poppop! I’m not sure!”

“I’ll get Dave,” you rush down the hall and pound on his door. He’s asleep, but you keep pounding.

Inside, Dave grumbles and groans about how it’s 3 AM.

“Jade’s on the phone. She needs to talk to you.” The door creaks open and a tired Dave grabs the phone.

“Hey, babe, what’s--whoa, okay slow down. What happened? Wait what? You’re in India? A hospital? Jade it’ll be okay, I promise. Can they get him back to the states? No, I know Rose isn’t answering. She’s sleeping on my floor. Long story...I guess you could have him out here, but wouldn’t Egbert’s be closer? Oh. Yeah. I miss you too. Okay. Yeah here she is,” Dave hands the phone back to you.

“Jade?”

“Can you have a room at the hospital set up for us? We’ll be on an emergency flight out in a couple hours,” Jade sniffled.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it. We’ll see you in 13 hours.”

Honestly, you should just see if you could turn your apartment into a rehab/ hospital center. You and Dave could get matching nurse outfits. Shit would be morbidly hilarious. And you might make better money than you do at your company.

“Thank you!” the line goes dead.

“What a time for everything in the world to come collapsing in on itself,” Dave grumbles and tries to shut the door, but you stop it.

“You’re still mad at me aren’t you?”

“Yes. Let me sleep.”

You take your hand off the door and let him close it. You're not sure how you managed to find yourself in this cluster-fuck and you're even less sure how to get out of it. One problem at a time, you guess.


	6. Calm before the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the hospital visit with the Harley's  
> Let's see how bad it can get, kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so this is seriously just a little update i am so sorry i said like twice a week but college

Once it’s day-light, you call the Texas Medical Center just a few blocks away to reserve a room for an emergency flight in. Normally they wouldn’t do this type of shit, but you’re Dina motherfucking Strider and you did some advertising for them a few years back and they still kinda owe you. The nurse you talk to remembers you, as you're a frequent flyer for the medical center with all the fights and strifes between you and Dave or fellow drunken bar-occupants.

Sometime around 12, Dave gets a call from Jade to tell him that they're above the states now and should be there soon. There's a lot of Jade crying and Dave telling her it'll be okay. They exchange goodbyes for now and he hangs up.

“She thinks he had a stroke,” Dave looks grim as he tells you, “He’s on oxygen and an IV drip.”

“Shit,” you hiss, this isn’t good. Like this is the exact opposite of good. Good has left the building and changed it’s address. And honestly, you won’t tell Dave this, but Grandpa Harley probably won’t make it. 

You’d have your answer in a few long hours. 


	7. Grandpa Jake English-Harley. Age 87.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm only kind of sorry for this chapter because I, too, cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY SORRY I GRADUATE IN DECEMBER I CAN BARELY MANAGE BEING AN ADULT

You get your answer after Grandpa goes into surgery. Dave holds Jade as the doctor explains what happened. You and Rox stand ready in case Jade can’t be contained by Dave. She throws herself to the ground hysterically, you and Rox lunging to catch her. Dave goes down with her and Rose cradles Jade’s head, whispering softly and petting her long, black hair. Despite Jade’s wailing, there’s a stillness in the air and everything seems to move at a fraction of a second.

As you punch in the number for Nanna Egbert -- a number you’d hope to never have to dial again, truthfully-- the air doesn’t change and when she answers the phone, it turns into fucking jello. Its hard to actually tell her the news and its damn-near impossible to breathe. A strange thought occurs to you: after all the years, you are still the one to break the bad news and to go crawling to Nanna -- though you get the feeling she’ll be the one that needs you for a change.

You hear her breakdown on the other side of the phone. You hear John ask her what’s wrong. You talk to John. He weeps for Nanna. He weeps for Jade.

You all weep for Jade. Especially Jade. Jade: who’s only ever known her grandfather as her guardian. Jade: who was picked up by Grandpa from Nanna’s when she was only a year and a half. Jade: who knew nothing of her parents, except that her mother looked just like Grandpa -- from pictures and from Grandpa’s stories of her. Jade.

Grandpa Jake English-Harley. Age 87. Time-of-death 5:56 in the evening. Survived only by his young granddaughter, Jade Harley. 


End file.
